Charmed
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: Minerva tells her professor she loves him, but he doesn't seem convinced. They always said the third time was the charm after all. MMAD.


**A/N:** _Just a cute little one-shot I wrote to pass the time. I'm not too happy about the ending, but I didn't know how to fix it. :X Hope you enjoy!_

The first time, it had been too soon.

"I love you," she says as he holds her close to him.

Sadly, he shakes his head. "Not yet you do, my dear."

As expected, she reacts with anger. "How would _you_ know how I feel? I'm perfectly capable of feeling _love!_"

He brings his hands to her cheeks and rests them there, seeing the anger flashing in her emerald depths. "I know you are—most everyone is, but I'm a might concerned right now that you do not yet understand what it means to love. You will in time, my dear, but that time is not yet."

Her professor was being _so_ embarrassing; of course she knew what love was! She was almost an adult and perfectly knowledgeable, perfectly aware—

"It is not permanent, my dear," he professed quietly with much weight. "Perhaps it will be one day, but you will be glad of it later I am sure, and relieved that I know better than you."

"Professor, you're being ridiculous!" she cries as he moves his hands to her arms, trying to make her understand. "I know what I feel and I know what I want—"

"Exactly Minerva," he interrupts finally with much meaning, almost as if he had been waiting for her to say this. "Love asks nothing of anyone. _Nothing_. You will understand some day."

She stalked off, angry tears wetting her face. Her old professor stood there for a long time that night, wondering if he had done the right thing. She was leaving Hogwarts in the morning and this was their last night together…it was so cruel. But perhaps he was crueler for depriving her of the one thing she ever asked of him.

ˁ˚ᴥ˚ˀ

The second time was almost as unbearable as the last.

"Professor, I am so in love with you." She confessed it quietly one night in her chambers following their weekly habit of chess followed by tea. It was certainly an improvement, but he still could sense some unease behind the words. Estates, both large and small separated them—she sat on the loveseat by the fire and he sat in a squashy armchair far from her and temptation.

"I do not doubt it Minerva," he replied, but made no move toward her and continued to sip his heavily sugared tea.

When he made no move in her direction, she looked at him in surprise. "But—I've told you. I only said it because I thought—"

Albus shook his head at her again. "My dear, you won't even call me by my first name. You are afraid of the commitment." She was hardly older than she had been the last time. This insistence was certainly heartening, but she still didn't love him for the right reasons.

Appalled, she spluttered. "'Afraid of commitment'?! Who are you calling afraid?! I've just agreed to _at least_ a decade here with this new contract the Headmaster had me sign!"

"Minerva, that has nothing to do with me," he reminded her gently.

"IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH YOU!" she shrieked, and aware of the limits of her control when her temper flared like this, Albus swiftly stood and backed away as she advanced. "Why ELSE do you suppose I agreed so readily?! I don't plan on teaching Defense for the rest of my life!"

"But you do plan to teach, just like you've always wanted to," Albus countered reasonably. "And you're after my job," he added with a teasing grin.

"That has _nothing_ to do with it," she spat, nostrils flaring and teeth clenched in disgust as she took in the sight of Albus Dumbledore fleeing at yet another declaration of love.

"Forgive me my dear, but patiently waiting for my job was the real reason." She swiftly advanced the rest of the way, ready to hex him to the ground when he hurriedly said, "Good evening my dear," and slammed the door shut behind his retreating figure and not a moment too soon. The entire wall quaked with the force of a particularly nasty hex just as he snapped it shut. Thankfully, the Transfiguration professor was not foolish enough to reopen the door and say that love did not attempt to fatally wound.

ˁ˚ᴥ˚ˀ

They always said the third time was the charm.

It was many years later; he was Headmaster and she was the Transfiguration professor, Deputy Headmistress, _and_ the Head of Gryffindor. It was much like his position when she had first told him she loved him—far too much work and hardly any time to sleep, let alone to dream of love and fantasy. And yet he still did. He had _always_ loved her, but the second rejection seemed to have dogged her steps a little and after a time, he was only distantly aware she had said anything to him at all. Therefore, it was of no surprise that _this _time, it caught him completely off-guard.

And of course, the news had come at an inopportune moment. He never before recalled feeling so tired after one particularly long day full of meetings with the Board of Governors, the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Order of the Phoenix. His presence was required at _all_ of them; otherwise he would have had Minerva attend one or two in his stead. (Perhaps two; there were really too many).

Nevertheless, when he finally returned to his office many hours later hoping to make a start on his correspondence, it was already done. And Minerva had been waiting for his return.

He stepped from the flames, and she helped him remove his heavy wool cloak. "I've just finished up the last letter for you," she announced as she took his cloak and hung it on the rung near the fire. "There are six that require your signature, but otherwise I have dictated them for you. And, Mrs. Harper wants to visit Saturday next—I've consulted your schedule and amazingly, you are free from eleven to noon. Is that enough time? I've already written your acceptance saying you'd meet her at the Three Broomsticks for a cup of tea or two."

"Yes, that's perfect, Minerva, thank you," he said gladly. The schedule was of Minerva's own design and was incredibly efficient. "A visit with Mrs. Harper will be a short one… ever since her husband passed last fall she's been excruciatingly brief with me," he added with some concern.

Minerva shook her head a little, waving his worry away. "The fact that she's continuing to meet with you at all should be heartening at least, Albus. I suppose she suspects she's treading far too much on your hospitality to reach out more than this, and remember, _she_ is taking the initiative, not you. The fact that you are meeting at all, brief though it may be, should be good enough. I also wonder if she believes she has no reason to see you since Edgar died."

Albus frowned. "How preposterous, but that must be rectified." Brightening, he said, "Thank you for your insight into the elusive female psyche, and send those poor letters off." With a wave of his hand, his signature was neatly transcribed on all of them and with another lazy wave, envelopes readied themselves for the Hogwarts crest seal. "Do any of them require my direct attention?" he asked, his hands and the envelopes paused in their motion.

At Minerva's denial, he moved his hands again, and the letters were neatly packaged, stacked, and sealed.

"Now if only you would take the time to do that with the rest of your office," she uttered dryly after noting the letters' neatness. Albus chuckled in reply.

"That would probably take me all night," he countered with much seriousness, though a smile lit his face.

Minerva shook her head quickly. "Then don't bother, Albus. I'll cope with the untidiness. You haven't slept enough in days and I think an early night would be wonderful for you."

"Both the Board and the Confederation gave me a _lot_ of paperwork. I intended to give it all at least a quick look-over before bed." Minerva knew exactly what that meant; that meant he would read all one hundred pages of each thing that yet again, required his signature. She also knew that Albus was probably the only one in either group (well, the Confederation probably had a few other serious members) that would take the time to actually read and understand every parameter of each proposal. Though it would do wonders for his lack of sleep if he just blindly signed everything, she loved that he read it all.

"Don't be silly Albus," she said, "I'll look them over for you tonight. I've already drawn a bath for you—it's waiting down the hall and you know, neither party needs these back immediately. You always seem to forget that…"

"I pride myself on being the first one to turn them in!" he retorted with mock indignation, but he smiled at her. "Thank you Minerva. My bed will owe you a debt of gratitude; for once I will be able to properly use the poor thing."

She laughed. She then rubbed his arm and stunned him with her words. "I love you, Albus. I think it's high-time someone look after _you_ properly."

"Minerva—!" he gasped in shock, and without saying another word, she kissed him softly. He couldn't resist and brought her as close to him as he dared. He let her decide when to let go, and when she did, she pressed the backs of her fingers to his cheek. "Go take up that bath Albus," she said quietly, her cheeks flushed and her beautiful eyes looking so soft. It made him want to fall to his knees and beg for her to stay with him forever.

"The bath can wait," he said deeply with much emotion, pulling her toward him again. "You've charmed it, haven't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then it can wait for a moment, my love." And with that he kissed her himself.


End file.
